Recordatio
by JasNutter
Summary: A distant memory from somewhere down the river. Leonardo drinks from the fountain.


"Why do you carry that around everywhere, Maestro?" Nico had asked one afternoon in the studio. Leonardo, who was wont to carrying around an array of objects, lest he require them unexpectedly, had emerged inquiringly from his peruse of the Hebrew text to find the boy, having abandoned his sketching, eyeing the most conspicuous object of all.

He fingered the small, gnarled statue, and removed it off its chain with a click. It was an ugly ornament; the face of the grotesque goblin grinning up at him, curved fingers held out as though it were begging for something. Or rather, offering something; Leo had never been certain. It'd been a while since he'd paid it any thought.

"I don't quite know, Nico", Leo replied slowly in truth, turning it over on his palm. A sun was carved onto it's stooped back. Leo ran a wondering finger over it.

"It's got something about it, has it not?" he murmured, to himself more than to Nico.

"Where did you get it?" Nico wanted to know.

And so did Leonardo, for all he could remember of the origin of the figure were strange dreary skies, and a discombobulated sense of fright. "I don't recall", he mumbled, ill at ease.

He shook it off.

"Back to work, Nico", he commanded, attaching the enigma back onto its chain. "And have it completed or you're the one bearing the brunt of the next concoction that requires testing."

Nico had shuffled away resignedly. "I always am."

* * *

He was dreaming again. He had to be.

_You are the son of Earth and Starry Heavens._

The Turk was present, seated cross-legged and regal before him. They were back in the Roman ruins. The statue atop the alter glared down at him; the dancing firelight mocked him.

_You are thirsty._

Then in a moment of misty haze, there was the goblin, and the sun was gone. Fingers reached towards him.

_Please, have something to drink from the fountain of memory._

He blinked once, and the Turk returned with the ruins. He smiled – a smile with too many teeth. A chalice was proffered.

Leonardo eyed him warily, and eyed the chalice with greater wariness. He accepted it nonetheless, and took a long drink.

* * *

Another dream in another time, and Leonardo was 14 once more. Sheep frolicked the fields. The Sun, mild and sweet, was nestled gently among downy clouds. The breeze gamboled playfully in his hair.

He was terrified.

He looked to the trees and the water, and how long he looked, he didn't know, for suddenly the sun was shaded, no longer watching. The heavens were curtained.

A cave rose ominously from the rocks below, and water fell upon dark, moss rocks in relentless frothy crashes. Leo ventured towards it, slipping a little, because he knew he must. It was an inchoate knowledge, floating about in fragments in his psyche. Nimbly, he dropped down to the gaping mouth. The darkness was formidable from afar, and it was even more so from this proximity. Leo thought he heard screams.

It was nothing, surely, just the water behind him. Curiosity prevailed unwarrented fright.

When he stepped in, however, the fright became suddenly, and with a vengeance, very warranted. Leo gasped and reeled; he fell against a desiccated corpse. Yelling in panic, he pushed himself up and staggered backwards, scraping his palms against sharp ridges in his haste, and slipped on a pool of blood.

He was screaming, but the screams weren't his own; someone else entirely.

"Help!" They yelled. "Help me!"

And Leo knew he must. Slipping and sliding, he stumbled deeper into the dank abyss, ears roaring – but perhaps that was just the water. The cave opened, the air was thinner and water leaked in through spaces. Leo halted. He stared.

A man dangled, face thrown in sharp relief, eyes wild and gaping. He opened his mouth and jerked; vomit fell to the stones.

"Help me", he gasped.

Heart leapt to his throat, thumping frantically. He must help – he knew he must.

"You need to climb", he was told. "Climb that rock; untie me."

It was slippery; a parlous climb. Balanced precariously atop the rock, Leo fumbled with the bindings.

"Quickly", the captive rasped, and Leo felt his urgency racing in his own pulse. "Quickly!"

He tugged them free, and the man crashed – crumpling against the hard stones with a cry of pain. Leo rushed down, half sliding, half crawling, arms and knees streaked with dirt, and stood back.

He beckoned.

"Come here", he implored, grimacing.

Trepidation had his intestines in knots. Leo hesitated, and the grey face turned to him, beseeching, mottled with dirt and slick with sweat, drying vomit clinging to the dark beard.

"My belt", he rasped, when Leo knelt over him. "A bronze figure."

"What?" Leo blinked, and looked to the man's belt. It was there, glinting lowly in the way bronze does.

"Take it. You have to take it."

"Why?" Hands trembling, he freed the object with alacrity. It laid cold and heavy on his palm.

"You are the son of Earth and starry heavens", the man said, panting through his pain. "An invocation. Keep this on your person, so the sons may find you. Do not leave it behind."

"Why?"

"Please", he begged through gritting teeth, clutching at his chest. "You must. Please. You will find an explanation – "he hissed, and screwed his eyes shut as though in almighty anguish, baring his teeth."Go. Leave. Hurry."

Fear was like ice, freezing down his spine. Leo stumbled into the air and light, winded. There was blood – how had there been blood? How was there blood all over his front?

He pocketed the figure, because he knew he must.

* * *

It was dark as it was chilly. Leonardo lay atop his duvet, drenched to his bones in sweat. The cave was gone. The Turk was gone. On the streets, the stray dogs took up their energetic barking.

The gnarled goblin still lay, bizarrely heavy, against his hip.


End file.
